The Blood on his Hands
by Pure Mudblood
Summary: He stared at the blood on his hands, where had he gone wrong? Surely this was his fault. If he had stayed home that night, she would still be at his side. The war was over, she promised she was better now. So why was she no longer breathing?
1. Prologue

**The Blood on His Hands**

**_Warning: Strong dealings with sucide throughout this entire story. You've been accurately warned._**

_Disclaimer: _I only own the plot and any characters that may appear later which are not from the books. Everything else is property of the author of the Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling. I mean no offence in the writing of this story.

**Prologue**

He stared down at the blood on his hands. He should've seen this happening. All the signs had been there, pointing to this moment in time.

The depression, the appearance of scars that had no believable explanation, everything. How could she do this to herself? What had gone so wrong along the line?

Sure, they had had a few problems. They had been faced with a lot of things that couples their age just were not supposed to go through. Sure, there had been times where no end was in sight, so she had said she was going to create one for them. He had figured she meant fixing the problem. Not this. Never this. She had been a happy girl for so long.

There were so many events that would indicate this end. So many things that he should've seen as a blatant call for help. How was someone supposed to convince themselves that not only was their girlfriend suicidal, but their best friend?

God, why? He knew he should be crying, but nothing. Not even the smallest tear. His heart had been torn out of his chest, his insides were slowing being torn apart, and yet, not a solitary drop of salt water would form itself.

The love of his life, whom he had fought so hard to keep close, was just beyond his reach now, and would stay there forever it seemed.

Forever. How was he supposed to last that long? Please Lord, don't mke me last that long. He has been pleading with every god in the universe since he found her in this state. No pulse, surrounded by thick red liquid, nothing bleeding out.

If only he hadn't gone to dinner tonight, than maybe, she would still be at his side. Maybe, just maybe, if he had said no to that last drik, he would've gotten here in time to save her. Maybe if he had never befriended her at all, she would still be alive.

She had saved him from certain death, why couldn't she have given him a chance to save her? He should run and get someone. Someone who could take her away and clean her up. Maybe get her dressed and ready for the funeral that would be soon. The funeral that he would be forced to prepare, because there was no one else.

How could she? He wanted to throw things, yell, scream, anything. Anything that would release this indescribable emotion that was building in his chest. It wasn't love, for you needed a heart for that. His heart was gone.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He stared at the pocket, not reaching for it. She had gotten it for him when they moved here, saying she wanted to always have a way to contact him. So much help that had been.

The home phone screeched in the background somewhere. Than her cell phone started singing their song. He gazed at it and the pad of paper underneath. A few simple words "I'm so sorry babe. I love you". That was it. Nothing more to explain why, what had led to this final decision.

He felt…...betrayed. Scared. Hell, he didn't know what he felt. What was he supposed to feel? Was there a certain way to react to this? What there some kind of protocol which he didn't know about?

Someone was banding on the door now, trying to gain entrance. Just go away, he pleaded silently. Just leave me her to die by her side so I don't have to live without her. Leave forever and please never return.

They never heard. He heard the tell tale "pop", informing him that someone was invading his privacy. He looked at the time. He had been sitting here for 5 hours, at her side, hoping she would come back. He knew that she wouldn't, but he wanted her to so badly, that he had hoped and prayed she would.

His name was being called through the house. Demanding that he answer their questions about why they had never shown today. Today. There was something special about today. He couldn't remember what, but whatever it was, someone was pissed off that they didn't come.

A scream came from directly behind him, and hand was placed on his shoulder. Someone was invading his space. He shook his head. Go away. Just leave me be with my love.

"Draco, have you been here all night?"

He looked up at the intruder. He had had dinner with these two just the night before. It was their fault he hadn't been here. Her fault that he had gone, pushing him out the door, telling him she felt ill.

This was his fault. It had to be. There was no other explanation. She wouldn't have done this for anything or anyone else. She wouldn't have left him unless he had done something completely detrimental to their relationship.

His eyes fell back to his hands. Oh yeah, it was someone 3 year anniversary today. There been a huge breakfast this morning, everyone celebrating the news that a baby would be born in a few months.

She would've loved to see that child. He knew that for sure. She had lost one of her best friends and two f his brothers, members of her own family, she would've like to see the line starting to be replenished.

If only he had stopped this from coming to a head somehow. If only he had had one less fight with her. Bugged her about one less thing. Done something differently. She would still be here beside him.

20/20 hindsight really was an amazing thing.


	2. Chapter 1

**The Blood on his Hands**

**_Warning: Strong dealings with sucide throughout this entire story. You've been accurately warned._**

_Disclaimer: _I only own the plot and any characters that may appear later which are not from the books. Everything else is property of the author of the Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling. I mean no offence in the writing of this story.

**Chapter 1 – The Beginnings**

It was the first day of seventh year. Well, it would've been anyway, had they been returning to school. Not a single student would be returning this year though. They didn't know if there would ever be another student to walk to halls of Hogwarts ever again. Sad thought, really, but there was many thoughts that were so much worse.

He walked confidently though, head held high, hiding his emotions like a Malfoy should. The war had started on the evening of July 13th. It was a Friday. On July 1st of the year, having figured out he had aligned his loyalties so wrong, he switched sides, supporting Harry Potter instead of the thing previously known as Tom Riddle.

It was only September the first and already the death count was high. It included some many of his classmates, his house mates, people he had grown up with. Parents of children who hadn't even really had the chance to get to know their parents yet.

With each passing day the death count rose, telling him that, if this didn't end soon, it would end with few people left standing. Assuming it ever ended at all.

The hairs of the back of his neck stood up and he spun around, wand drawn, ready to fight whoever was there waiting for him. He found himself looking upon her face, like so many times before. She was his saviour, having come to his aid in more battles than he could count, making sure he did not stand alone in this fight. He could not explain why she did it. He never asked her, afraid that he would receive an answer that it was just because she was obligated to.

Her eyes shone radiantly, confidence, mixed with hints of fear and sadness, shining in her aura. She simply lived and breathed this war, just like every other person. She would not let her emotions get in the way of her job though. She was willing to accept the fact that death would take her eventually, and if it decided to come while she was helping this war, than so be it, there was nothing she could do to change that.

That's what her persona said, anyway. He knew her well enough now to know the inner battle that she fought. The strength she wasted each and every day holding her emotions in check, making sure no one else figured it out. She had succeeded too, until she met him.

This war would likely be the end of many people. It may not kill the person, but it would surely kill their spirits. She was one of those people. He had no doubt that she would come out of this alive. She would fight to the very bitter end, right along side everyone else. She would be on the front lines the day Tom Riddle finally fell from existence, and she would revel in the glory of being the saviour's best friend.

There was had already been so much lost though, and she felt it all, every death, no matter what side it was on. She did not want glory of any kind. For every person she was forced to bring to their knees, she was killing someone son or daughter. For every last prayer she would hear uttered, she would be killing someone's husband, wife, brother, sister, mother or father. The pain that inflicted on her soul was so great, and she did not have the means to stop any of this. Only her best friend did, and he was very single minded at the moment. Not that anyone blamed him. If he let himself feel all the pain, he would never find the strength to fight this thing and win it.

Should there be a winner of this war, Harry Potter would be it. Harry Potter would come out of this alive, if it one day all ended.

Draco stared into her eyes, knowing that they were shining with unshed tears, not confidence. He wanted so much to wrap his arms around her and comfort her. This girl, no, this woman, had become his best friend in the matter of only a month and he was so scared of how she would come out of this. Would she still be his? Most likely, but she would never be the same girl she had been. The girl that he hated so when they were in school. The girl that had such a huge heart and an unbreakable spirit.

Draco had seen the scratches, bruises, scars, everything, come and go over the last month. He had seen the bags under her eyes from all the sleepless nights. Everything she had been through, he had seen, and had been able to do nothing.

She had lost one of her family members just two days ago, and already she appeared to be over it. She wasn't, he knew, as did anyone close to her, but she wouldn't let this get in the way of her goal. Draco was scared of what lie ahead. He could see her building the wall, forcing everyone out of her heart so she could convince herself that she never felt the pain.

She stopped in front of him, just simply holding out a hand. This was her way of trying to tell him that she was alright, even if she was, in fact, lying. Draco would only later find out, through the reading of her journals of this time period, that that was when the real problems had began.

Only after everything was said and done, and she swore she was through the worst of it, promised that she was rehabilitated would he find out that she had started to delve into the world of drugs and alcohol, muggle and wizard alike. It would not come up until after that she had a real problem, she needed help so desperately.

It was on September the first of what should've been their seventh year that her really problems began and by the time he fully realized the extent of their affect on her it would be too late to save her.

&&&&&&&&

May 23rd of the following year brought about the end of the war, the day that Harry Potter finally bested Tom Riddle. It should've been a day to celebrate, but instead it was a day of mourning.

Finally, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, brother, sisters, aunts, uncles, all different factions of families were allowed to greave for those they lost. Few families came away fully intact. With an uncountable amount of deaths, there was an even larger number of mourners. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were not spared this pain. In fact, if anything, they felt it three-fold. They had almost made it through this with only one casualty from those close to them. Almost, but not quite, for one the nineteenth of May they lost two more. They lost Ronald and George Weasley, as the two fought side by side to protect a severely injured Hermione. That added to a total of three Weasleys lost, having lost Charlie on the twenty-ninth of August the previous year.

Draco stood beside Hermione at the funerals, beside them both at the endless memorial services. Slowly as the summer progressed, Hermione stopped attending these services, though she continued to receive calls asking her to attend. She would politely decline, saying it was just too much.

She never truly allowed herself time to pass through all the stages of grief. She swore she was fine, nothing was wrong. Draco knew better though.

They bought a house together, deciding that it was safer. Each had their own bedroom, seeing as, at that point and time, they were still only close friends, not dating, no signs of anything of the sort in their near future. They made sure this house was out of the wizarding world, away from the watchful eye of all the witches and wizards who were constantly hanging around, though pretending they had other reasons to be there.

Draco started to notice Hermione wearing more and more black, no make-up or jewellery. It was unlike her, but she wasn't the same person she was before this war began, and changes were expected. What bothered him was that she never talked to him anymore. She would leave in the early evening, claiming to be hungry, and not return until the next morning, completely worn out and ready to drop immediately into bed. She would never roll her sleeves up in his presence, would never take of a sweatshirt or sweater.

This was the girl who had once walked around the house in just her bra, not caring that he was a male, or that he could easily get turned on just looking at her. She never cared that he could take advantage of her at anytime. She trusted him implicitly, and knew that he would do nothing to screw with that trust.

Six months after moving in, Harry came by and confided in Draco just how worried he was about Hermione. Draco knew the feeling. She was pulling away from everyone. No one knew what she was doing, or where she went when she would go out, but they knew it would all add up to an end that they didn't ever want to have to face.

Harry, like Draco, had recognized that Hermione just was not moving on the way one should. She was hiding from the world, running for the problems that surrounded her. Draco promised Harry he would stop at nothing to protect this girl, and he meant it more than anything. He really thought he could prevent it all from reaching the fatal end that it did.

&&&&&&

He stared at the blood on the floor. The crimson that surrounded her petite body. He still remember the first time she had rolled up those sleeves, revealing problems that he had never dreamed of. Maybe if he had handled those differently she would still be here. There had to have been a way somewhere along the line that would've led to a less bloody outcome, and he wanted to find it. If he was able to find it, then maybe, just maybe, he could let her go, let her rest in peace. Maybe then, at the end of all this soul searching, he would have to the power to tell others how to fix their problems before this point.

At this point in time though, all he saw was pain in the future, and he knew that it would not reach an end unless he let go. He just couldn't let go though. Not until this was fix, at least in his mind. Not until he had saved her memory in a way she would want to be remembered, and saved his own sanity from the same clutches that had slowly ate away at hers.

&&&&&&&&&

_Hey people._

_For all new readers, I would like to introduce myself to you. My username here is Pure Mudblood and I have some serious issues that I'm not gong to delve into right now. If you wish to hear about them, please refer to the final chapter of "Crimson Rain Drops". The authors note there explains it all._

_To all returning readers ,especially those from "Crimson Rain Drops" I thank you for coming back. I hate to tell you all that I retreated recently back into a world of depression and hate, and haven't yet found a way out again. I will, I know I will for I have God and faith on my side, as well as an amazing support system. This story will be my way of coping once again. Every time I get an urge to turn back to my old way, I will sit and write until it goes away. Whether it be only a paragraph, as it sometimes it, or two entire chapters, like tonight, will all depend on the strength of the urge._

_This story will most likely all be from Draco's point of view as I look through the eyes of someone on the outside of these problems, someone who has never been through all of this. I revealed my entire story to one of my best friend snot long ago, leaving only one more person to tell, but I'm not ready for that yet. This friend that I told didn't judge me for it though, like I always thought he would. He gained my trust quickly, which is unusual, and he just managed to ask all the right questions and bring up all the right topics at a time when I was vulnerable. Like I said, he didn't judge me. In fact, the morning after our four-hour long phone conversation, he pulled me aside as I was going to my locker and just gave me a hug. I hadn't felt that loved in a while, not since Luke found out, and it felt amazing. Neither Luke nor this friend know any of this, but I will always be thankful to them for their acts of acceptance. I love them both so much for it, more than they will ever know._

_Anyway, I make no promises for this story. I make no promises for happy endings, quick updates, or anything of the sort. It's a coping mechanism, and nothing more. If one person reads this, like "Crimson Rain Drops" and emails me with a problem of their own, or a thank you for a small baby step in their own recovery, my job here has been accomplished. So please, I ask you to read and review this, email me, anything. If you happen to read this and have suicidal tendencies, thoughts, anything, I ask you to seek help now, from anyone or anything that will bring healing, not more pain, more mutilation or the body, spirit or soul. I ask this for a selfish reason as well. For every email of someone saying "I have a problem and you helped me" or "I had a problem and I completely relate with this, it should help many", I take a huge step towards my own recovery._

_I leave you now to think about life and what it has in store for us all. If you, or a friend or family member have a problem like this, I beg you to seek help for youself or for them, anywhere that will bring no harm, only healing._

_I thank you for reading this all if you are still with me at the of this note and I thank yopu much in advance for reading this story, because by your reading, you're helping to save me, and that's the biggest help in the world._

_Thank you and love always  
Pure Mudblood_


	3. Chapter 2

**The Blood on his Hands**

_**Warning: Strong dealings with suicide, drug/alcohol abuse and other such things throughout this entire story. You've been accurately warned.**_

_Disclaimer: _I only own the plot and any characters that may appear later which are not from the books. Everything else is property of the author of the Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling. I mean no offence in the writing of this story

**Chapter 2 -- It's A Lack of Feeling**

They were trying to move her now, trying to take her from him. No, he couldn't allow that to happen. She had to stay here, so she would see him when she awoke. She would wake. She had to. Draco could not live, breathe, survive without her. She was his anchor, and she was gone.

They were giving him something, telling him it would ease the pain. Only problem was, he felt no pain for them to try and ease. He felt nothing except for the constant pounding in his head. Not even that, though, caused him pain. It only made him aware that he was, in fact, still alive.

Was he even breathing? He let his chin rest on his chest, waiting to see if it rose and fell. Yes, it would appear he was still breathing. He could stop that, quickly, once everybody left him alone, but he knew he wouldn't. He just could not do it. It wasn't his style, and people didn't need to go through that twice in less than twenty-four hours.

Yet, maybe, if he tried something from the stash he knew she had here, he would feel better. Or, at the very least, feel something. Maybe, just maybe, that would help. After everything he had seen, could he go through with it? Could he get as drunk as possible and then pop some pills, and make everything go away? Most likely he could drink and pop pills, but nothing would ever make this go away.

He remembered what she was like the first time he had ever seen her, what he thought at the time, was drunk. That wasn't drunk, not even close, but it was scary. Not only for him and her friends, but for every single person around.

&&&&&&

_They were in a battle_ that day, fighting to make sure they all survived another day. Trying to pull back without a surrender for the day. They just wanted to go home for Christmas, see their families, or at least what was left of them. They had come so close, so many times to being able to get out and celebrate for the few hours left, but each time, the other side would renew their efforts. This battle was slowly going nowhere, like so many before it.

Draco had been here for six long, agonizing hours and he was starting to wear out. His adrenaline seemed to have finally given out on him, if that was even possible. If this didn't end quickly, he had no chance of surviving the day.

He tried focusing on Hermione, trying to remember the last time he had seen her. As far as he could tell, it had been the day before on the way out of headquarters, on their way out for a decent dinner. She was supposed to come, but had declined, saying she wanted to go home and sleep while she had the chance. You couldn't blame her, really. They all took as many short naps as they could fit in, for when the were not fighting, they were planning the next battle, and when they weren't planning, they were training or practising. They literally ate, slept and breathed this war.

Hermione, though, seemed separated from it. Almost as if it wasn't a part of her. It seemed as it, in her world, this war didn't run her life. That life in between the different battles had not changed at all. That she just wasn't controlled by it all. She was though, just like they all were. Not only was she controlled by it, but she let it control her. She let it take a hold in her very being, and consume her. Not that Draco was able to make this observation until reliving the memory several months later. No, at the time, he just thought she was coping really well.

Draco brought his mind back to the battle, glancing around, looking for the tell-tale brown hair, informing him that she was, in fact, here. He saw nothing. Hermione didn't seem to be anyway. That didn't mean she had never come. It could simply mean that she was injured, or that she was helping with the injured, or was using some of her very affective skills to fool a death eater. There were numerous possibilities, and Draco refused to believe that she had never shown up at all.

He could sense someone watching him from behind, and he turned just in time to see purple light coming in his direction. He ducked in the hope that it would surpass him, leaving him without injury. Sure enough, it did just that, though he didn't see what, or who, it did end up hitting.

He _stupefied_ his opponent and left him there. Draco didn't even know this man. It must have been a new recruit. Draco heard the tell-tale pop of an apparition to his right and glanced in the direction to see if it was friend or foe. It was definitely friend.

Hermione staggered around, a stupid grin on her face. Draco knew instantly what was wrong. Hermione was very, very drunk, and didn't seem to have the faintest idea as to where she was. Well, that was a little of a lie. She had her wan out, pointed at the person closest to her, but that person was Tonks and was in no way a threat.

Draco made a move towards her, but thought better of it, deciding that maybe it would be smarter to let Tonks deal with Hermione. He didn't honestly think he could think straight enough to rationally deal with her anyway. What kind of idiot showed up to a battle this size, on Christmas no less, piss drunk?

Draco just shook his head and jogged over to help one of the Weasleys, who seemed to be having trouble getting their opponent in range to stupefy him. He didn't think about Hermione again until they were finally allowed to go home just over two hours later. He was unable to find her anywhere, which, upon further thought, wasn't an entirely bad thing. He wasn't sure if he could actually make it through a conversation with her without chewing her out for her stupidity, and he was sure that the Weasleys, Harry, the entire Order, someone would make sure that was done as soon as she was sober enough for the lecture to sink in.

Draco apparated home, thinking about all the ways he could be spending Christmas, instead of how he would be spending Christmas. Spending this holiday on his home didn't seem overly appealing in most aspects, but it would give him ample time to sleep, and he could definitely use that.

&&&&

What seemed like only minutes after he had fallen into bed, Draco found himself jerked out of sleep by a knock on his door. He reached for the light, than, thinking better of it, just grabbed his wand and made his way to the door in the dark, peering through the hole in the door to see who was calling on him.

He sighed in relief as he opened the door for Hermione and gestured for her to enter. She seated herself on the couch, sitting on the very edge, glancing around at his apartment. It was almost bare, save for the couch, a chair, a single table with a picture of his mother perched on it and a lamp. Besides that there was a door leading to his bedroom, one leading to the washroom and an entryway into the kitchen. There was no real dining area, though considering Draco didn't really cook very often, he didn't need one. There was nothing else anywhere in the entire apartment.

He seated himself in the armchair and looked at her, waiting for her to start. He wasn't about to speak to her, in fear that he might just start yelling, unable to contain the words he wanted to speak to her so badly. Best friend or not, she had truly screwed up this time.

Hermione sat there, the only movement was that of her chest, rising and falling with each breath. She seemed weary of speaking, almost afraid of what would happen if she did.

And so they sat in silence, looking at each other, each waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Hermione took a deep breath, and her mouth began to form words.

"I'm. . . I'm sorry." She stared into his eyes, pleading for his forgiveness, just hoping that he would be willing to listen to her, even if she had no real explanation. He simply nodded stiffly, waiting for her to continue.

Her eyes filled with tears for a moment, before she steeled herself all over again, trying to block out the emotion. "It helps to relieve the pain, Draco. It's that outlet that we all look for, and I was lucky enough to find mine. I know I screwed up and I don't need countless lectures telling me so. Just know that I'm sorry I did that today, I let everyone down. I promise it will not happen again."

Draco sat there, unmoving, barely even acknowledging her, save for him looking directly at her. She just sat there for what must have been hours, though may have only been minutes, then sighed a little, getting up to leave, not speaking another word.

Not until the sound of the door clicking open echoed through the room did Draco finally respond to her, getting up and walking towards the door. He lightly grabbed her wrist as she walked out the door, whispering to her. "Don't leave, Hermione".

She stared up into his eyes and nodded, letting his pull her back into the apartment, allowing him to wrap his arms around her as he stared down at her. He placed a small kiss on her temple and leaned his forehead against hers.

"Please, don't ever leave. For, if you leave, I'll never get the chance to know you in the ways I want to". He wrapped his arms around her waist and placed a small tender kiss on her lips, as she responded, pushing up against his.

He pulled back for a second and just looked at her. She nodded at him, as if understanding the thoughts going through his mind. She let him pick her up and carry her towards his bedroom, where he place her tenderly on the bed, undressing her down to her underwear. He then crawled in next to her and just simply put his arms around her waist, pulling her in close, placing his head on top of hers, the sound of her rhythmic breathing lulling him to sleep.

&&&&&

_Draco remembered that night as_ if it was yesterday. Nothing had happened that night and yet, everything had happened that night. It had been the first time that he had truly realized that he loved her as more than just a friend.

That day had marked some significant events in Draco and Hermione's lives, both together and apart. It was on that day that Hermione had sunk to the point where she was so lost that there seemed to be no breathing room left, and she had started her full downhill spiral into nothingness. On that day, her problems were only just beginning. It was on that same day though that Draco and Hermione had found anchors in each other, somewhere to go when they needed an escape. Hermione had run to Draco many a time, though not every time, when she was falling, and Draco had sought out the comfort of holding her whenever he could, trying to keep himself sane in the insane mess that was war. Finally, it had marked the day that she made the first promise that she would be unable to keep as the months wore on.

This night, however, marked the day that Hermione had turned from him one too many times though, and this last time had led to her final downfall. She was her own worst enemy, and she had never really admitted to herself that she was in true trouble.

In one final show of weakness, she had turned to the sight of blood once again, the feeling of the high she got from it. And that final time had been her demise. For she was gone now, never to return.

She had to though. There was no option to not wake up and look up at Draco, telling him she was alright, that she would be okay.

Draco shoved a person away from him, trying to communicate that he just wanted to be alone.

"Draco, they have to move her now". The voice seemed distance, and Draco just shook his head. No, they didn't. No one had to take her anywhere, not until it was all alright again. She wasn't going anywhere until he had feeling again. Not until this lack of feeling was gone for good.

When he was feeling something other then numb, she could leave.

&&&&&

_I've been sitting here for awhile, trying to think of how I wished to conclude this chapter, not only in terms of the chapter itself, but in terms of this authors note. I could tell a lie, and say that I'm doing absolutely amazing right now, that this has really helped me sort out my problems at the moment. But, like I said, that would be a lie. _

_I feel. . . a little like Draco right now. Numb. The only thoughts that have really been going through my head since I started this chapter was how am I going to be able to pull out this time. What miracle is going to be performed to help me now? It's too late to burden my friends at this moment, but I don't see that helping this time. The one friend I want to talk to is currently inaccessible anyway. Maybe I'll sleep, and that'll help me _

I thank Luke for some of the inspiration in this chapter, because he's helped me through so much, that he deserves to be recognized, especially in this chapter. If he ever reads this, I know he'll recognize what parts I got the inspiration for from him.

_Finally, I thank those that reviewed for their reviews. I thank those that read this for reading the story._

_Until next time (may it be a long time)  
Pure Mudblood_


	4. Chapter 3

**The Blood on his Hands**

_**Warning: Strong dealings with suicide, drug/alcohol abuse and other such things throughout this entire story. You've been accurately warned.**_

_Disclaimer: _I only own the plot and any characters that may appear later which are not from the books. Everything else is property of the author of the Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling. I mean no offence in the writing of this story

**Author Recommendation: **listen to the song "So Far Away" by Staind while reading this chapter. It's a song that holds great emotional meaning for me, though I will not divulge why here. It's a song that makes me want to cry every time I hear it, but I love it and I ask you to please find it and listen to it as you read the following. 

**Chapter 3 – No More**

_Draco stared down at her _unmoving chest, just willing it to rise again. Nothing, though. It just wouldn't. They lived in a world of magic, pure magic, and yet, nothing could bring her back to him, and he knew that all to well. He would never willingly accept that, though. There was a way to convince her body to breathe again. There just had to be.

Draco tried to inhale, but found his airway constricted, unable to suck in a breath that his brain was telling him he needed.

Was it even possible that Hermione was permanently out his reach? How could it be that she was gone forever, that she would never look at him again and smile? That he would never get a chance to see the sparkle in her eyes again, never again witness the extent of her magic, watch her as she healed someone with her words.

He just could not bring himself to accept that he wouldn't have a chance to hold her warm body against him, whispering that he would love her forever and always.

He reached out to touch her, but pulled back before his fingers got to close. The feel of her cold skin would just be too much. This was just too much. How was he supposed to handle thing? How dare she be so selfish, deciding that this was the only way to fix her problems? Hadn't they gotten through the worst of it all, defeated their major demons?

He would never forget that first time he held her close to him as she sobbed into his chest, ready and willing to give up completely.

&&&&&&

_Hermione walked through the front_ door, her demeanour cold, but her eyes scared. Today was the day that she was forced to say good-bye to one of the best friends that she had ever had, and she just wasn't ready. How could a person ever truly be ready for something like this?

Draco watched her closely as she swept past him, over to Harry, pulling him into an embrace. Hermione seemed to feel that she needed to be the strong one, and yet, there was not one single person here who needed to be strong. They had just lost two members of their family, and the last thing anyone ever expected was for them to be held together in one piece. The Dark Lord may have been gone, but that did not mean that the pain and suffering was over. No, it had only just begun.

Draco had been lucky, losing few that were ever really close to him, and those he lost in the war were gone long before anyone ever pointed a wand at them and said the magic words. He had lost those that had been close to him from childhood long before ever stepping onto the battlefield, and he found that now was certainly not the time to mourn them. Now was the time to mourn the heroes of this war, the people who, without them, Harry Potter would have had no chance of ever coming out on top.

Hermione was the rock here though, and Draco truly felt that everyone was taking advantage of that at this moment, though he knew that that was an unfair judgement. These people didn't see her every single day, and those who did were too used to their Hermione and just didn't seem to see the changes she was going through.

He directed his gaze toward the floor, berating himself for having such thoughts. These people were grieving, and they would only assume that the changes she was experiencing were because of the same disease they all were currently carrying.

The thunder roared, and the rain slammed down on the ground. On this day that should've been celebration, the weather only seemed fitting for the sadness that had engulfed the wizarding world. Now was a time to let go of their emotions and just remember their loved ones and forget the fighting that went on.

The group slowly moved outside to where the caskets stood, surrounding them in silence. They would be lowered soon, a final goodbye said, and their graves filled. Draco sucked in a few deep breaths and reached for Hermione's hand, grabbing onto it and swearing to himself that he would never, ever let go.

&&&

Draco sat on the couch in his apartment, waiting for Hermione to come out of the washroom. She had already been in there for over twenty-five minutes, drying off and washing up. The storm outside had only worsened as the funeral progressed, but they all stood out there, honouring the two that had fallen.

He waited patiently as he heard the shower stop and some shuffling around in the washroom. Yes, he was waiting for her to come out, but that wasn't all. He was waiting for her tears to come through, her walls to break down, and her icy exterior to melt away now that he was the only witness.

The door clicked as she slowly opened, dressed in sweats and one of his sweatshirts. She had little at his house at the moment, so she was forced to use his clothes much of the time when she didn't wish to go home and get her own things.

Draco stood, motioning for her to sit. She shook her head and headed for the kitchen, where he heard the familiar "pop" of the fridge door opening, and the banging around of pots on the stove and in the sink. She was restless, hiding something, so she was cooking.

He had learned some of her habits over the past months that she spent here, nights that she spent in his bed, just wanting someone to lie with her as she fell asleep. Why she didn't wish to talk, she would start dong something else to distract herself, though it was mostly cooking or baking.

He followed her into the kitchen, reaching for herbs and helping where he could as she cooked, just letting her keep busy until she was ready to talk. She was making soup. At least, that's what it appeared to be. Whatever it was, he wasn't allowed to eat it that night. She made it, put it in some Tupperware and stuck it in the fridge and then helped him clean up the mess left behind.

He sent her into the living room as he put the last of the dishes away, telling her that he would meet her in there in a few moments.

Draco reached into the back of the fridge, grabbing the bottle of 7-UP that he kept in there for her and padded softly into the living room, only to she her curled up on the couch, staring straight ahead at nothing.

He set the 7-UP down on the coffee table as he rounded to the front of the couch and looked down at her, leaving his hands in an open stance, inviting her into a hug but not demanding it.

She didn't respond at first, but he stood there until she did. She finally moved, pulling herself up and wrapping her arms around middle, placing her head on his chest. As he placed his arms around her lower back, pulling her tightly to him, comforting her, she began to cry. Sobs wracked through her body as he held her, and there was nothing he could do except let her cry and never let her go.

"Why?" she asked over and over again. "Why them and not me? Why did they have to die? How could he leave me? Why would Ron leave me here? Why did George have to die?" The questions carried on in a similar fashion, though they weren't questions looking for any real answers.

Draco placed a kiss on the top of her head as she began to calm a little, regaining her composure. She looked up at him, sadness in her eyes as she said "I don't think I can do this anymore Draco"

He wasn't entirely sure what she meant, so he asked her, afraid she would say their friendship was over, no matter how selfish a thought that would be for him to have at a time like this.

"Do what, Hermione?"

"Live". And that's when she began to cry again as he held her closer. There was a light at the end of this tunnel, and he was bound and determined to find it for her.

&&&&&&

_Apparently he hadn't found that_ light in time. It was so close, but he had been to slow in reaching it.

He gazed at her face as he slowly realized that she was so far away. She was gone and there was no more. This was it for her. Her days as a breathing human being were done, weren't they? Like before though, he still couldn't cry for her, for she would never stop breathing. She just wasn't allowed. Not until he found a way to go to bed on this night and never wake up again.

&&&&&&

_Hey guys,_

_I don't pretend to be in a good or happy mood when I'm writing this, so don't expect it to happen any time soon. The last part of that "flashback" is what's been going through my head these past days, I only wish I could talk to the one who I know would be able to bring me out of this again, even if for only a short while, and get me to cry so that this awful feeling goes away for a while, for, at the moment, I'm at a point where I just don't understand why I even bother trying to live anymore._

_Thank you for all your reviews to date, and those that may or may not be to come. They quite often are able to bring a smile to my face, and God knows, I need that right now._

'_til next time_

_Pure Mudblood_


	5. Chapter 4

-1**The Blood on his Hands**

_**Warning: Strong dealings with suicide, drug/alcohol abuse and other such things throughout this entire story. You've been accurately warned.**_

_Disclaimer: _I only own the plot and any characters that may appear later which are not from the books. Everything else is property of the author of the Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling. I mean no offence in the writing of this story

**Chapter 4 -- Pain**

Where there had been only numbness there was now pain. It was an endless feeling, this pain. Nothing to stop it, nothing to dull it. It was there and nothing would change that. Years of promising to always be there for her, to never leave her side were now only meaningless words. After so long ago mending her broken heart and providing love for her when she felt like she had nothing, she still left him. She had just left and that was that, nothing more then a few words and that was it, it was over. Once again, she was gone.

Draco was standing now, and though he wasn't sure how he got to this position, there he was, towering over her lifeless body. She was dead, gone and nothing would change that now. The number of ways that he had failed flooded his mind, but he pushed them all off, just trying to create a blank slate. Now that his world was gone, he would need to rebuild it. He had no choice.

His attempts to inhale seemed fruitless, for his body would not let him. He could sense his tears falling, but he could not feel them, for there was only pain. Maybe if he hadn't helped her so many years ago; maybe, just maybe, if he had just said no and told her that no way would he help her she would not have wormed his way into his heart. If only he had left her broken heart.

&&&&&

_Draco groaned when he looked_ at the clock. Who the hell could possibly be pounding on his door at 7:30 in the morning?

He had been home for only a few short hours, and he could still feel the alcohol in his system. As he stood to grab his robe he quickly realized that he was still relatively drunk. It had been a shitty few weeks and last night, like many pervious, had been how he had decided to cope with it all.

Draco had finally managed to drag himself to the door and was just getting ready to yell when he saw who it was.

"Hermione? What the hell are you doing here?" He was truly shocked. It had been about four months since anyone had heard from her. She had left one evening, telling him that she was craving Chinese and she would be home soon. After that there was no contact with anyone on her part, and no matter what they did, what spells they used, no one had been able to locate her.

He glanced up and down her body, making note of the fact that this was not what she had left wearing, but it was her clothing, something from her own wardrobe. He studied her face and was quickly able to deduce that she had been crying rather recently.

"Ca. . . Draco, please, I need a place to stay right now. Just let me go to my room and sleep some and I promise to talk later." She was fidgeting with her sleeves, showing that she was extremely nervous and she wouldn't look him in the eye, yet, as always, he was incapable of denying her anything. He moved out of the door way and allowed her entrance back into the house that they used to share with one another.

She nodded her thanks to him, and headed to her room, avoiding his questioning eyes the entire time. He watched her until she was in her room and briefly wondered why she hadn't just used her keys to come in. It wasn't until he was back in bed that he remembered having the locks changed when it was clear she was not returning. In all honesty, he had never believed that she had been taken or killed when she had gone missing. If she had, they would have been able to find her. She hadn't wanted them to find her, so she made herself invisible to the world. He didn't trust her anymore, and doubted he ever would again. The choice to change the locks had been his way of pushing her out of his mind and out of his life. Clearly that had had no effect.

It was several hours later that he awoke to the smell of bacon in the house. It was roughly four in the afternoon so why the hell was she cooking bacon? He grumbled all the way to the kitchen, not quite understanding why she would insist on making the one food in existence whose smell did nothing but make him ill, especially when suffering from a hang over. Why he had chosen cheap alcohol and consumed no water he was not sure, but no way would he be making that choice next time.

Upon reaching the kitchen he realized that her habits hadn't changed. Like always, she cooked when avoiding something. He glared at her back a little as he poured some coffee. He was definitely not in a pleasant mood, and frankly, he was pissed off. Four months and no contact from his best friend? How did she think that felt?

Not speaking a word to her, he headed for the living room where he laid down on the couch, setting his coffee mug on the floor. No way was he ready to be out of bed yet, and still he was out and his every sense was being completely assaulted by something Hermione was doing.

Finally, everything in the house became silent. Nothing but the sounds of her soft steps was to be heard and he thanked the lord for that. He removed the pillow that had been masking the sounds and placed it under his head, preparing to go right back to sleep when he heard her voice.

"I think I screwed up Draco."

He glared into the pillow and said something that vaguely resembled the words "no shit".

"Please look at me Draco. I need my best friend right now." There was a pleading tone to her voice that forced him to turn his head to look at the spot where she sat on the other couch.

"Now? You need me right this second? Four months, Hermione. I haven't heard from you in four fucking months and you choose now to return and inform me that you need your best friend. I feel like my head is exploding and it hurts to so much as think, but hey, Hermione Granger needs her best friend so I had better fix myself quick so I can be at her side." He quickly saw the result of his words on her face. She had always masked her emotions so well, but something had caused her to let down her emotional barrier and here he was being a right ass to her. He turned face back into the pillow for a second before pushing himself up into a sitting position. "Fuck. Fine, what?"

He watched Hermione as she just stared at him, hurt evident in every feature. "I just need you Draco. I'm sorry I left without a word, but that was my decision and I'll be damned if I'm going to let anyone yell at me because I did something out of my own free will for once. And by the way, since when do you drink? I thought that we had decided that drinking wasn't allowed in this house. No drinking and no sexual partners without previously verifying that it would be alright with both parties who live here. I leave and you decide that these rules mean nothing? And you changed the locks! What, exactly, did you expect that to accomplish?" She looked angry now, but he truly believed that she was out of line this time.

"I repeat: Four. Fucking. Months. You expect to come back here after that period of time and find that nothing has changed? I didn't think you were ever coming back Hermione, so I dealt with it in the way I knew how. I closed that chapter of my life, and the only way to make sure you didn't come barging back in was to lock you out. So I changed the locks. You shouldn't have an issue with that anyway. After all, you no longer live here, remember? You left, not me. And by the way, who are you to talk to me about drinking? I know good and well that you used to go into your room and drink. Don't even try to deny it. I'm not dumb, I never have been. As for who I sleep with and when, you get no say in that. How would you know anyway? The only possible way would be if you were here when someone was with me." It was with this statement that realization quickly dawned on him. "That was how you had your own clothes on last night. You were in this house without my knowledge. You. . . I can't. . . I have no words for you right now, Hermione. Nothing"

"Yes, Draco, I was here. I came to fetch some things so that I had more then the clothes on my back to wear. I didn't even bring my wand with me that night. I had no intention of not coming back. I went out for food, that was all. Eric was there with my food when I got there and he suggested that I come back to his place. I did. That's all. I spent the last four months with Eric, alright? I realized that I needed a break, so I took it. Yell at me, punch me, throw me off a building if that would make you happy, but first I need to say something to you" Hermione paused for a moment to catch her breath and compose herself. Draco looked into her eyes, and saw something he didn't like. She was hurting in a way that he had never seen before. It went beyond losing one of her best friend. No longer was the fact that she felt like a murderer the only thing that was tearing her apart. All the work that had been done since the end of the war to slowly bring their Hermione back seemed to have been undone.

So many things were rushing through his head. He needed to say so much to her, but he let her speak instead. It was easier that way. If he didn't, he knew that he would explode at her for going home with Eric. He and Harry had spent so long trying to make her see that he was no good for her, and they had thought that she had finally seen their side of it. Apparently not.

Hermione inhaled again before starting to speak. He watched her chest fall back down as he listened to the sound of her exhaling. God, he had missed that. Missed her.

"I screwed up, Draco. I admit it this time. I fell in love with him and I don't know why. He was nothing but bad for me, but I still found myself falling for him. He made me so happy, like I thought no one else could." He kept his gaze steadily on her, even as she looked everywhere but at him. "I needed to get away, Draco, so when he offered, I took the chance. I knew you guys didn't approve, so I hid it from you. I promised him that I wouldn't contact you, and it was one of the easiest decisions I had ever made at the time and I'm so so sorry" Tears had started to fall down her cheeks now and he found his anger quickly dissipating. Right at this moment, he really wanted nothing more then to walk over and wrap his arms around her.

"What happened, Hermione?" he whispered

"I don't know, Draco. After you and Harry told me everything about Eric I still found it impossible to not see him. I kept seeing him Draco, and I'm sorry I did. I cut off my entire world so that I could be with him. I didn't realize it, but I. . . Draco. I just need you right now. I still love him, and I can't explain it because he's a bastard and an asshole and he made me turn my back on everything that was good for me. He was everything you guys told me he was and more, and he was doing everything that I had heard about, but I still find that I'm completely and utterly in love with him. I just. . . I need my best friend right now Draco. I promise, you can yell at me later, but right now, I need you." She had pulled her knees to her chest now, and her tears were freely falling now.

Draco watched as this girl feel apart in front of him and wondered how he had ever convinced himself that he no longer loved her. How he had managed to believe that he could live the rest of his life without her, even as just her best friend, he wasn't sure, but he knew now that it was a complete impossibility.

Completely forgetting about his own pain at the moment, he went over to her and enclosed her in a hug, whispering to her.

"I promise that everything will be ok Hermione. I don't know what he did to you, but I swear he will never come near you again, ok? Nothing will happen to you anymore"

He sat there for hours, just hugging her, making promises, being there for her. Any anger he had felt towards her was gone, and he felt nothing but love for her once again. She was his best friend, and if it meant going to the ends of the earth for her, he would do it. He would protect her until she no longer needed protecting.

&&&&&

Draco felt a sudden need to throw up. People were slowly filling the living room, he could hear them. They were going to try to move her again soon, he was sure of that. He wouldn't allow it, not now, not ever.

Did he truly believe that if he hadn't sat and listened that day, he would have been unaffected by her death? No, he didn't. Her death here meant that he had failed in his mission, though. He had stopped protecting her before she was ready to protect herself. He had screwed up. It was his fault she was gone. He may have aided in mending her broken heart in the weeks and months after that night, but he had ultimately failed.

He could feel the bile rising in his throat again, and he could feel pain coursing through his veins. He dropped to his knees once again, landing inches from her head. He pleaded with her lifeless form. "I'm so sorry for failing you Hermione. Please, come back and I promise that I will keep you from falling this time. I swear to you to never stop protecting you, if only you would come back to me"

&&&&&&

_Hello readers_

_I assume here that you are all able to guess where this chapter is coming from. If not, -well, that's alright, I don't mind. I realize now as I read it through that I truly am out of form in my writing, especially in regards to this chapter. But I'm really out of my element right now anyway. I've gone from several months of being truly happy with few relapses to being back right back where I started so long ago. What's wrong, I don't know, but writing is my therapy. I admit that I am happier then with my last few chapters, and that is clearly evident in the writing of this, but nonetheless, I wrote it for this story so I will post it. Besides, what was the point of writing it if I'm not going to at least post what I have, no matter if it's my best or my worst right?_

_Thank you for reading and may next time come sooner and from only inspiration and not situation  
Pure Mudblood_


	6. Chapter 5

**The Blood on his Hands**

_**Warning: Strong dealings with suicide, drug/alcohol abuse and other such things throughout this entire story. You've been accurately warned.**_

_Disclaimer: _I only own the plot and any characters that may appear later which are not from the books. Everything else is property of the author of the Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling. I mean no offence in the writing of this story

_**In loving memory of Sam. May you know that I will always love you, may you rest in peace, may the why's be revealed and may this pain go away. May you always watch over us. With all my love, I promise you that the good you've done will not be reversed.**_

**Chapter 5 -- A Million Questions**

_Draco felt a small smile _fall across his features as he remembered the first time he told her he loved her. The first time he had shown her affection as anything other then a best friend. He remembered it clearly.

He was sure that never again would he feel like that. Nor would he ever be able to experience love like they had shared. Never again would he feel love for another person as he feels for his Hermione. His. His Hermione. No one would ever be able to replace her.

He watched from the corner as they finally moved her body, wanting to reach out and stop them, crying as he realized he was paralyzed, completely unable to move, yelled as they moved her out of the room, screamed whenever someone tried to come near him. What gave them to right to comfort him? Why should he be comforted when the love of his life had just been taken away forever, never to stand by his side again? What gave him the right to feel comforted?

He felt his insides lurch, bile rising again in his throat, the taste of stomach acid in his mouth as he threw up. He didn't even reach up to clear the tears from his face as he hit the floor beside the toilet, resting his face against the cold tile, letting the cold consume him. If she was no longer going to be the warmth in his life, he would remain forever cold, numb to the world around him. There was nothing left for him, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to end the pain that he could feel coursing through him, as if it was being carried through his blood, residing in his very bones, reaching the depths of his soul.

&&&&&

_Draco gazed up the stairs_ at Hermione, holding his hand out for her to take. He was to be her escort this night, the two agreeing that finding dates for the engagement party wasn't worth it, deciding that it would be more fun to go together instead. They had done this in the past, and never had the plan failed. At the end of every night, it was always decided that having a best friend as your date was better then a date with someone you barely knew.

The party tonight was a more formal event, and for the occasion, Hermione had slipped into a simple lavender dress, with thin straps that flowed gracefully, ending just above her knees. She was gorgeous.

Draco knew that she had charms covering the scars on her arms, but tonight, that didn't matter. She was going to have fun, and that was all there was to it. He would stop at nothing to make sure that that happened.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, he grabbed her lightly by the waste, and apparated with her to the party, not speaking a single word to her, only giving her a small smile, one the he knew conveyed to her what he thought. She grinned at him when the arrived, bowing her head slightly to show her appreciation of his appearance that night as well.

Draco held true to his promise; Hermione had an amazing time that night. The clock was showing roughly two in the morning when he took her hand, offering one last dance before they left for home, for the comfort of their beds. Lightly placing his hands on her hips, her hands resting around his neck, they moved slowly to the music, letting it draw them where it wished, not controlling their movements at all.

Draco's eyes never left Hermione's as they moved. Her eyes were smiling up at him, his down at her, and he knew then that there had never been a more perfect time. He brought his lips down to hers, placing a small, tender kiss on them, before pulling back.

Hermione bit her lip a little, but smiled at him, leaning in for another kiss. Draco again brought his lips to meet hers, whispering three small, but oh so powerful words against them.

They didn't even say good bye as they left the party after that dance, that small moment in time. They simply went straight home, Hermione again sharing Draco's bed with him, his arms around her, holding her against him. Like every night before, nothing was to happen that night, but unlike every other night, Draco was able to sleep completely peacefully, knowing that she was safe and happy, and though he had no clue what tomorrow would bring, for that night, he too, was truly and completely happy.

&&&&&

_I love you. Those three_ words had turned their world upside down, changing their relationship so much. It had occurred only a few weeks after Hermione had come home from Eric's, and yet, it had felt like two different life times.

Draco had known then that it would change everything about their relationship, and yet, he had said it, said those words. It had done exactly that, and yet, the exact happened. He couldn't really explain or understand it. In some ways, they had grown apart after that night, but in others, had gotten so much closer.

After that night, he swore to protect her forever all over again, never let anything else happen to her, for she was his angel, and she deserved only the best of lives, nothing less. He had gone to Harry that week, trying to figure out a way to get Hermione's different problems under control, trying to understand what the root issues were.

Together, with the help of the Weasley family, they had tackled Hermione's problems, backing her into a corner to the point that she had to admit she needed help, that she couldn't fix everything on her own. Finally, they were able to break her down, get her to spill every problem she had.

Draco could only hold her hand as she told them everything, from the drugs and alcohol to the plans of suicide, everything. The root problems were something that she needed help truly discovering, but they were going to help in every way possible to get her better. If he was being truly honest with himself, he would share the fact that he had more issues hearing every problem she had, every way she had of dealing with life, then he had as they slowly uncovered the reasons of why. It hurt more to hear what she did to herself then to hear the whys, the what's.

Slowly though, they thought they were managing to get her back on a path that would lead to a long, healthy life, though they always braced themselves for relapses, many of which occurred.

Now, lying on the cold tile floor, Draco had to wonder if she had actually been fixing herself, working on dealing with the issues in a healthy matter, instead of further harming herself. He had to question where they had gone wrong, why she had relapsed this final time, what had led to it.

Did she not realize the pain that she was causing everyone else? Did she not realize what she had done to them, what she had done to him? How could she? What that the reasoning? Did this really make it all better?

Slowly, but surely, Draco felt himself breaking down again, crying into the tile, slamming his fist into the floor. He was angry. Angry with them for not fixing her, angry with him for not noticing, but, most of all, angry for her for being the cause of this pain.

Was this the kind of pain that she felt on a daily basis? Is this what she dealt with all the time? How could one keep something like this inside, not sharing any of it, screaming, shouting, letting it out?

He felt people placing their hands on his shoulders, on his back, trying to calm him. Slowly, he pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them. It had felt like an endless battle, and yet, it was one he would have willingly continued fighting with her. Now, he was fighting a new battle, a new war. It felt like days, since he walked into this room, collapsing next to her. Felt like minutes since he realized he was alone. Seconds since he had read the note, mind blank. It felt like weeks since he had last held her hand, months since he had last kissed her, years since he had last listened to her breathing as they nodded off to sleep, and yet, every last one of those had occurred in the last forty-eight hours.

Draco just lie there, trying to wrap his mind around it all, attempting to control his tears, fighting to get his anger to subside. He knew, deep down, she was gone, but would he ever be able to accept it? Would he ever be able to stop being angry with he for leaving him here without her? Most importantly, would he always remember the softness of her skin, the gentleness of her touch, the kindness of her eyes, her smile? Would he ever forget how fierce she fought for her beliefs, how she could win over anyone with a simple smile, how she could reveal so much with a look, and yet hide so much with the next? Would he always remember every scar, every freckle, every imperfection that made her so perfect?

Staring ahead at the wall, he had to ask himself: Would he always remember that he loved her, that she was his everything, that no one, nothing could every replace? Would his trying to replace her make it easier to deal with her being gone?

Concentrating on every breath, Draco began to wonder, did he truly know how to function without her? He wasn't ready now, but would he ever be able to breath, to move, to wake, and have it not hurt? He was sure he wouldn't, because without her, everything hurt. The touch of another person was a touch of fire to his skin, the breathing behind him, nails on a chalkboard. No, he would never be able to function without her. If nothing else, he was sure about that, and being so sure, he had to question whether or not trying was truly worth it.

&&&&&

_On this night, I write this, because I don't know how else to really get my mind around a damn thing going on in my life right now. This chapter is kind of out of character for the story, really, but I feel that it's necessary. Thank you for your patience if waiting for it to come out, but these last two months, I've barely been able to think straight, let along write clearly. With that said, I dedicate this chapter to three people, each for reasons of their own, perhaps for reasons that they don't understand. _

_I dedicate it to Sam, with whom I just stopped being angry, realizing that his death, his suicide, was for reasons of his own, and that one of his best friends are wrong, that his death was in no way any fault of my own. I love you Sam and I miss you and I want you home, where you belong._

_I also dedicate it to Sierra, who is going through a situation right now that I would never wish on another person. I love you Sierra, and I promise, I'll be on to talk right after I finish my exams. I'm here if you need me, though, just email and I'll answer._

_And finally, to Luke. I've spent almost two months on a Luke hiatus, for reasons that I cant really explain, but I needed it, and without him, I tell you right now, I would not have been able to write this chapter. I'm not really dedicating this to him for any reason other then he deserves it and I love him, and even as we grow apart, he needs to know that._

_I love you all, my lovely readers, and though I do not promise anything chapter-wise as I enter my last two months of high school, I do promise that this story will one day go somewhere and that I will never abandon it. . . It's too much my baby for me to ever leave it without finishing, as my other stories tend to be. _

_Until next time  
Pure Mudblood_


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